


all i want

by vtforpedro



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1990s, Friendship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Pre-Apocalypse, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 17:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20139502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Aziraphale falls a little more in love.





	all i want

The year is 1999 and Aziraphale tends to his bookshop. It’s a bright, sunny Wednesday in London, one of the few for this spring so far, and he has all window shades up so that the beautiful rays of light will touch every corner of his shop.  
  
It smells like strawberries and tea and old books. There’s a hint of spice too, from this new cologne he has tried and isn’t quite sure of yet.  
  
All in all, it’s a perfect day to sit down at his desk and read a book while waiting for customers.  
  
It’s been rather quiet so far this year. There haven’t been that many disasters, except that impending doom to do with computers Aziraphale doesn’t really understand.  
  
He hasn’t heard from upstairs in a while which might be something to worry about, but he decides to not let it worry him. He has much better things to do in his life than worry about what Gabriel might have to say. His job is to live among humans as if he’s one of them and he’ll do his job as long as he can. He likes humans very much, something his fellow angels don’t seem to understand, but he thinks they are charming.  
  
They’re unbelievably complicated, filled with intricacies Aziraphale never expected, and he is endlessly fascinated by them. What more could he ask for, to live among them?  
  
Well, perhaps a friend he might be able to spend time with without worrying what might happen if he does.  
  
Aziraphale sighs as he thinks of Crowley.  
  
Crowley is a good friend and Aziraphale finds that he has… feelings for him. They’ve been there for a few decades now, simmering below the surface, only breaking free when he’s near Crowley and laughs at his jokes or smiles at his quirks.  
  
Crowley himself doesn’t seem to notice anything, for which Aziraphale is grateful, as he can hardly do anything about it.  
  
They’re an angel and demon, not even meant to be friends, let alone anything more. And Aziraphale has never had _ more. _ There have been a few people interested over the millennia but Aziraphale found human coupling odd and didn’t think it was for him.  
  
And then Crowley had rescued those books for him and well… well, ever since then Aziraphale has been _ interested. _  
  
But Crowley hasn’t been around much in these last few months. He drops by occasionally, often with a bottle of wine and Aziraphale’s favorite foods, but he seems to be busy causing mischief these days.  
  
Aziraphale misses him, whether he’d like to admit that or not.  
  
There’s just… something about Crowley. Something unique, something wonderful, something perfect.  
  
And to think he gives Aziraphale the time of day and has since the beginning. He’s a very lucky angel, he thinks.  
  
The bell above the door rings and Aziraphale sits up. “Be with you in a moment!” he calls.  
  
“No need,” a familiar voice says.  
  
Aziraphale feels his heart soar and wouldn’t be surprised if it burst out of his chest and fluttered around the shop. He turns around quickly and sees Crowley. Beautiful Crowley, wondrous Crowley… oh dear.  
  
“O-Oh my,” Aziraphale stutters as he gets a good look at Crowley.  
  
It seems that Crowley has embraced the nineties with all he is and Aziraphale gapes at him in shock.  
  
Crowley is dressed in all black, as he usually is, but there are many more belts and buckles and chains and pockets than usual and that seem to serve no function on both his pants and shirt.  
  
But it’s his hair that is currently making Aziraphale gawk at him.  
  
“Don’t like it?” Crowley asks as he smooths his shirt out.  
  
“It’s very,” Aziraphale starts, then stops. “Interesting.” He laughs nervously. “Good interesting, of course, you always are, but, erm… well.” He gestures at his own hair.  
  
“Yeah, I thought I’d try it out,” Crowley says as he reaches up and touches the side of an incredibly massive mohawk.  
  
“It’s two feet tall,” Aziraphale says faintly.  
  
“Popular these days,” Crowley says before he frowns. “It’s not two feet tall.”  
  
“Oh yes it is. I can tell.”  
  
“Is not.”  
  
“It absolutely is.”  
  
Crowley scowls. “Two feet is ridiculous.”  
  
“Yes,” Aziraphale agrees as he stands. He snaps his fingers and a measuring tape appears. He approaches Crowley and gestures with his hands so the measuring tape stretches itself out against Crowley’s hair. “Aha!” he cries. “Twenty-three and a half inches!”  
  
Crowley scowls. “So it’s not two feet, is it?”  
  
Aziraphale can’t help but laugh. “Nearly,” he says as he looks at the shaved sides of Crowley’s head. “This will take some getting used to.”  
  
“You don’t like it,” Crowley sighs.  
  
“I do!” Aziraphale says, quite used to lying these days.  
  
Crowley rolls his eyes. “You’re sinning, angel,” he says. “I can change it.”  
  
“I wouldn’t want you to do that,” Aziraphale says with a smile. “Might I point out the similarities between you and a cockatoo though?”  
  
“Alright, I’m leaving,” Crowley says sourly as he turns on his heel.  
  
“No!” Aziraphale says as he grabs Crowley’s arm. He swallows down his laughter. “I’m sorry, that was rude. You certainly fit the times. I merely saw you as more… rock, than punk rock.”  
  
Crowley looks at Aziraphale suspiciously before he huffs. “Maybe it is too big,” he admits. He smirks a little. “Let’s make it shorter.”  
  
He snaps his fingers.  
  
There’s a coldness to Aziraphale’s head that wasn’t there before and when he looks up at Crowley’s head, unchanged, he feels something… sway on his head.  
  
He gasps as his hands fly to his hair, which is now sporting shaved sides and a tall mohawk. “Crowley! Change it back right this instant!”  
  
Crowley snickers gleefully but he snaps his fingers and Aziraphale’s hair returns to normal.  
  
“Don’t _ do _ that,” Aziraphale says breathlessly, clutching at his chest and head. “Or I’ll… I’ll…”  
  
“Hmm? What was that? You’ll what, angel?” Crowley asks as he holds his hand to his ear.  
  
Aziraphale scowls and snaps his own fingers.  
  
Crowley gasps as his hands move to the top of his head, patting it. “You didn’t!” he says, scandalized, as he frantically moves his hands over his bald head. “Change it back!”  
  
“Goodness yes, immediately,” Aziraphale says as he changes Crowley’s hair back into a mohawk, which is infinitely better than a bald Crowley.  
  
They both sigh in relief.  
  
“No changing each other’s hair,” Crowley says firmly.  
  
“Agreed,” Aziraphale says. “But you started it.”  
  
Crowley merely rolls his eyes. He frowns after, screwing his face up in concentration, until his hair is no longer a mohawk, but only a few inches long, some hanging curled against his forehead in a windswept sort of style.  
  
Aziraphale swallows.  
  
“A little Leonardo, I think,” Crowley says as he fiddles with his hair. He looks at Aziraphale. “What do you think?”  
  
“It’s nice,” Aziraphale says, his voice startlingly hoarse. He clears his throat. “Yes, very… who?”  
  
Crowley sighs and puts his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You and I need to have a movie night.”  
  
“I suppose,” Aziraphale says, marveling at the feeling of Crowley’s warmth against him, even in such a small way. “But no more gratuitous murder.”  
  
“Of course not,” Crowley says. “It’s just about the Titanic.”  
  
Aziraphale frowns. “What a tragedy that was,” he says. “They’ve made a movie about it?”  
  
“You need to get out of this bookshop more often,” Crowley says with an amused smile. “You’ll like it. All that sappy romance you like.”  
  
Aziraphale smiles as he straightens his waistcoat. “I do like romance.”  
  
Crowley merely observes him for a moment, something fond on his face, before he takes his sunglasses off.  
  
And there are his beautiful yellow eyes that Aziraphale is treated to only once in a while. He sighs longingly as he watches Crowley look around the bookshop with interest.  
  
“Something’s changed,” he declares.  
  
Aziraphale looks around as well. “Hmm. I did get some new books in since you’ve last been here.”  
  
“It’s not that,” Crowley says. He sniffs the air and makes his way closer to Aziraphale, like a bloodhound on a scent trail. “It’s you!”  
  
“Me?” Aziraphale asks before he grins. “Ah, yes, the new cologne! What do you think?”  
  
“I like it,” Crowley says and there is no lie in his voice. “Fits you.”  
  
Aziraphale blushes, but he’s smiling, very pleased with his choice now. “Thank you,” he says. “Would you like to get some lunch?”  
  
“Love to,” Crowley says. He looks down and over himself, scoffing. “Well I can’t very well go out like this without the hair to match it.” He snaps his fingers again.  
  
Aziraphale looks over Crowley and feels a burning sensation low in his gut, something he’s not… entirely unfamiliar with these days.  
  
Crowley is dressed in a black dress shirt and loose fitting black jeans, simple but tasteful.  
  
“Perfect,” Aziraphale says, then jumps a little as Crowley’s eyebrows raise. “Perfectly acceptable! Shall we go? Where to?”  
  
Crowley’s lips are twitching for some reason and he pats Aziraphale’s shoulder. “There’s always the Ritz. I think they even have a table waiting for us.”  
  
Aziraphale smiles warmly as he falls a little more in love. “Wonderful,” he says. He closes down the shop and flips the open sign to closed. He locks up as they leave and gets into Crowley’s Bentley.  
  
_ One day, _ Aziraphale thinks, as Crowley drives to the Ritz, darting in and out of traffic.  
  
One day he will tell Crowley how he feels. One day he will admit to this burning love inside of him and see what Crowley has to say. He isn’t completely blind to the way Crowley looks at him, but perhaps he’s seeing something that isn’t there.  
  
But one day he will find his courage and see where it takes them.  
  
For now, they will dine at the Ritz with a bottle of champagne and Aziraphale will touch Crowley’s hand and Crowley will lay his arm over the back of Aziraphale’s chair.  
  
And it’s enough for today.  
  
_ One day, _ Aziraphale thinks as he smiles at Crowley, _ one day. _

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all ever see Matthew Lillard in SLC Punk?
> 
> I know, sorry, this is silly, but I still want to share it.
> 
> I'm writing these shorter stories to warm up to one or two longer ones. I hope you liked it at least a bit!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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